The Words That Help Us Remember
by SilentScribbler
Summary: "Jean I…" Marco didn't know what to say. Jean on the other hand crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Do I know you?" (reincarnation fic set at a small literary magazine)
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N - I had a block so I wrote this. Not sure if I will continue yet! **_I do not own any of the characters from attack on titan/shingeki no kyojin but Misty is_ mine**)**

**Chapter 1 - Marco**

They say that at the moment of death you see your whole life in a flash. Billions of moments from across the years re-experienced; friends you made, wrong decisions, loves you lost, everything just piled into that split second moment before nothing. Everything you were, everything you meant, just snuffed out.

When the hot breath of that Titan washed over me I remember thinking about when the images of my life would come. What would I see? Would I be able to relive it all one last time? Would I see him?

They never came, no smiling faces, no warmth of a summers day when we'd skip training and lay on a roof somewhere, no laughing until I thought my lungs would burst, no squeeze of a mother's arms as she saw her son off to war or the feel of a home cooked meal in my belly. There was nothing, no comfort to be had from the past. There was only pain, only ripping and shredding and the despair of leaving my life unfinished and people behind.

* * *

Marco hissed as pain lanced up his right arm, halting his progress on the computer. He clenched his teeth together, trying to ride out the pain. No easy task when he felt like half of him was on fire.

Ever since he'd woken in this place not knowing where he was, and for a while, who he was Marco had experienced this pain. He clutched the desk and gasped as the agony hit its peak and than slowly began to ebb.

After a few moments of breathing deeply, Marco returned his attention to the screen in front of him. He wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead and tried to focus his eyes down on the words in front of him.

Computers had been a hard thing to comprehend to start with. Machines that allowed you to see moving images and talk to people half a world away, just how was that possible? And it hadn't been the only thing Marco had struggled with. This world was a strange place to grow accustomed to after horses, rifles and 3D manoeuvre gear. In this world 3D was a type of moving image that somehow came out of the screen at you. A gimmick rather than a weapon. But the differences in technology weren't the hardest thing. The most difficult adjustment to make was being alone.

When Marco had come to, he was laid in a dank and dripping alleyway. His clothes were soaked through, torn in places, and filthy. His mind was a blank, an empty vault, like someone had drilled into his mind and stolen everything that made him a person. But worst of all Marco was alone. There was no one to turn to and eventually, as he began to remember, Marco realised there would never be anyone who understood.

The sound of the back door going jolted Marco and soon enough a voice rang out. "Marco! You in yet?"

"Yeah! Just in the office!" Marco called back, trying to collect himself a little.

He heard Misty shuffling around in the back room, swear a couple of times, and then her small form appeared in the doorway, a coffee in one hand and a pile of papers in the other. "We really need to sort that back room out. I think I tripped over nearly every file box on my way in here."

Marco just smiled warmly at her. Misty was one of the few people in this world that didn't act like Marco had a major screw loose. She never asked him about his past or where he came from and she never prodded him about where his mind wandered off to. If he jumped at loud noises she just acted like it was normal and when the pain hit she just sat with him, keeping him calm. She accepted him and helped keep him occupied, which he liked.

"Got you a coffee," she gestured the take away cup. "Figured you were here since ridiculous o'clock since you like…never sleep."

Misty made her way over to him and he took the coffee gratefully. "Thanks, Misty."

She plonked herself down at the desk next to him with a dramatic sigh. "So…what _have_ you been doing since ridiculous o'clock this morning?"

"Oh erm…just reading submissions."

Misty ran a small magazine from a dingy little office. It was a sort of literary magazine with a large pinch of whatever Misty felt like writing about at any given moment. She'd encourage Marco to write a lot and his mind always seemed to land on one subject.

She kicked her shoes off and put her feet on the desk, making a disappointed face. "Awe…you should write more instead of doing actual work. I want to hear more about that walled city."

Marco gave a nervous smile and fidgeted slightly.

"Oh! Speaking of submissions." Misty waved the paper she was still clutching in front of his face. "You should check this out!"

"What is it?" Marco asked.

"Some guy wrote it. I think you might like it…there's all this shit about like…Titans and they _eat _people. Crazy huh?"

Before Marco knew what he was doing he was on his feet and had snatched the paper right out of Misty's hands. He quickly shifted through the pages. The pages that perfectly described a formation to take out a Titan using 3D manoeuvre gear. Marco's breathing quickened, his hands shook and he began to search for a name, a desperate hope blurring the edges of his vision. Then there, on the last page, the details of the author.

Marco zeroed in on the name. _Jean K._


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N - It's kind of fun to write this at the moment so I'll keep going! **I do not own any of the characters from Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin but Misty is mine!**)**

**Chapter 2**

"We're definitely stalking him."

"We're not stalking him, Misty, we're just…just having a look," Marco said, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. He kept his eyes focused on the apartment block across the road, waiting.

"Then why are we in a bush?"

"We're not in a bush, we're next to a bush."

"In a bush, next to a bush. It's all the same really. Especially when you're _stalking someone_." Misty began to impatiently prod Marco's elbow with the tip of her tattered converse. She was stretched out across the bench, her head dangling off the end opposite to Marco.

Marco sighed, unable to see anything with her jiggling him. He shifted away from her reach. "I just…I have to check something."

With a groan, Misty lifted herself into a sitting position and leant against Marco. "What's the big deal? I mean his story was cool and everything but you've been acting weird ever since you read it."

Marco's throat tightened, an uneasy feeling tingling up his spine. What was he supposed to say? That he thought this guy could be the reincarnation of someone he knew in a different life? A life where humans were in constant risk of being _eaten _by fucking Titans. A life where he hadn't known whether he'd live to see the next day. How would he even start? How do you explain the pain and fear of war to someone who was used to the convenience of having a coffee shop on every corner? He looked down at Misty and watched her playing with the dangling bobbles of her woolly hat. Would she even believe him? The longer Marco was in this world the easier it became to believe that his former life was all some elaborate delusion. Sometimes Marco caught himself thinking that he'd probably found his way out of an asylum instead of being brought back to life for some unknown reason. Perhaps that was why he was sat on this bench. He wanted, no he needed, proof that his old life wasn't a lie.

Obviously noting his decent into troubled thought, Misty lightly punched Marco in the arm. "Don't worry about it, Freckles. I know one day you'll explain everything to me in painfully minute detail, right?"

Marco smiled. "Right."

"Excellent. It'll make a great feature article." Misty sat up suddenly, spreading her arms wide as though seeing an imaginary scene before her. "I'll call it 'The Mysterious Freckled Man.'" She turned to Marco. "Oh, oh...or 'The man behind the Freckles,' Or how about 'Freckled Men Do Have More Fun.' No! I've definitely got it this time—"

"Please stop," Marco interrupted, feeling a blush creep up his neck.

Misty deflated back onto the bench. "Spoil sport."

Nudging her gently with his shoulder in an attempt to cajole her, Marco almost forgot why they were there in the first place until his eye caught something that made his entire body freeze.

A man had just appeared through the main door they'd been staring at all morning. His light brown hair was cropped close at the sides and back but was left messy and wild on top. His clothes were dark and simple, a black tired looking jacket and grey jeans tucked into loosely laced boots. He paused outside the door, cupping his hands to his mouth before rubbing them together and shoving them deep into pockets.

"Jean…" Marco breathed.

Marco felt a weight lift off his side but couldn't take his eyes from Jean. That was Jean. He was here. He was really here. Marco felt like the air was rushing out of him, like someone had punched him in the gut. His head felt light, his vision felt foggy and then…

"Hey! Titan boy!" Misty ran across the road, arms flapping, hat bobbles bouncing. Several cars honked their irritation at her passing and Jean…_Jean_…had stopped, a mixture of surprise and concern creasing his forehead.

Misty skidded to a stop in front of him, the top of her head just about level with Jean's collar bone. She chatted away to Jean, or rather she chatted _at _him, and after a moment he cast a glance over to Marco.

Marco felt like his heart was going to go off like a firework in his chest. How long had it been since those eyes looked at him? How long since they'd last spoken? Had it been longer for Jean? Had he missed Marco? His mind was in utter chaos and all Marco could do was sit, rigidly bolted to the bench.

Eventually they crossed over to him, Misty pulling Jean by the arm, and Marco tried to look anywhere but Jean's eyes. When they stopped in front of him there was an awkward pause and then a frustrated sigh from Misty.

"Titan boy this is Marco. Marco…Titan boy."

Marco slowly brought his eyes up from Jean's boots, over his chest and arriving at his face. Jean's expression was wary, guarded, and all Marco could hear was the sound of his heart pounding inside his chest.

"Jean I…" Marco didn't know what to say.

Jean on the other hand crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Do I know you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N - I found this chapter harder to write so sorry if it's kinda sucky! **I do not own any of the characters from Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin but Misty is mine!**)**

**Chapter 3 – Jean**

Jean watched the sheepish smile slide off the freckled guy's face. Where before there'd been a hopefulness to him, a fidgeting nervousness that Jean had seen from across the road, there was now something else. Shock? Disbelief? Or was it pain? Whatever it was disappeared in a flash to be replaced with a terrible empty gaze. Jean let his eyes flick to the woolly hat girl and saw that she was biting her lower lip, concern clear in the frown that marked her features. Obviously Jean had done something, had caused this, and that knowledge sat like a lead weight in his stomach. He felt like he should say something but the problem was Jean couldn't remember meeting this guy before. Marco wasn't it? Wasn't that what the woolly hat girl had said? He couldn't remember knowing anyone called Marco. But then again he couldn't remember a lot of things these days. Could it be that he did know this guy?

Looking back to the bench Jean saw that Marco had gone very pale now, it even seemed like his freckles had gone a shade lighter. But there was still that blank stare and it was transfixed on Jean. It went right through him like it was trying to peer inside him. A tingle of unease ran through Jean, he shifted his shoulder uncomfortably and pulled at the collar of his jacket. He felt like he should say something. Anything to make the expectation piled on him disappear. "Look. Sorry. I'm…I'm just not real good with names lately."

The sound of Jean's voice changed something in Marco's eyes and he blinked a couple of times, coming out of some sort of trance involving Jean's face.

"Right, yeah…" was all the guy said.

"Didn't you wanna ask Jean about his story, Marco?" The woolly hat girl prompted.

Marco glanced at her then back at Jean. He still looked utterly lost, like his mind was trying to push through a dense fog. He surprised Jean by standing up abruptly and for a split second Jean thought Marco was going to touch him but when Jean stepped back Marco faltered and shied away from him instead.

It wasn't like Jean considered Marco a threat, he just didn't want the guy to touch him. Even though that was a natural response with a stranger, Jean couldn't shake the feeling that if he got too close to Marco then everything would change. The air around him seemed to be charged with something like…promise? Jean didn't like that idea at all. Other people just made everything louder and more chaotic. He'd just gotten to a point in his life where most things had reached a normality.

"I should..." Jean began, wanting to escape this situation and this guy, but before he could finish Marco let out a small huff of a laugh. He looked up at Jean, tears at the corner of his eyes, pain in every crease and line of his face, and then Marco strode quickly away.

Jean instinctively took a step towards him but stalled after a moment, watching him go. Just what the hell was happening here? And why did Jean feel as though he'd just made a huge mistake? He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to shake a feeling of heaviness that had come over him.

"Well…that was dramatic," the woolly hat girl said. Jean had almost forgotten she was still there. "You sure you two don't know each other?"

Jean sighed. "I don't think so?" But was that really right? Maybe he did know Marco. Or maybe it was just a mistake. Maybe there was another guy named Jean and this was all just an accident. The image of Marco's eyes full of tears came unbidden and Jean clenched his jaw. No, at least in that guy's mind, there was no mistake. Jean was the one in the wrong and that thought made it difficult to breathe for a moment.

When he finally looked at the girl again, she had her arms crossed over her chest, a lone eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"What?" Jean asked.

"I smell bullshit. You're not saying something. Spill or feel my wrath."

"Your wrath?" Jean felt a mocking smile tugging at his lips.

"Yes, _Titan boy_. My wrath."

Jean wanted to laugh, she was so small, her woolly hat so ridiculous and yet the way she stared at Jean actually made him feel a little unnerved. When he didn't answer immediately she took a step forward.

"Okay, fine! A few…a few months ago I was in an accident. Apparently it was pretty bad but since…since then I don't remember much."

"Much?"

Jean looked down at the path, his eyes running across a crack in the paving slab that cut it in two. "I don't remember anything before I woke up."

The silence weighed heavy on Jean, he hadn't really told anyone about this before and he didn't know why he was telling this girl. The truth was that no one seemed to know who Jean was before the accident. A nurse at the hospital had told Jean that he'd been carried in unconscious, cut up and bloody, without any possessions or any indication of who he was. No one had come forward to claim him. No one missed him. He was alone.

The girl chuckled, surprising and annoying Jean in equal measure. "Looks like you and Freckles have a lot in common after all." There was a pause, some rustling and then, "Here." She waved something small and white in front of his face. Jean glanced up and took hold of the business card she offered.

"Seems like I'm collecting amnesiacs. So when, or if, you feel like it, pop by the office. I'll talk to Marco so don't worry. I reckon you could use some friends." She began to walk backwards, a smile lighting up her face. "See you around, Titan boy," she waved, turned, and then disappeared after Marco.

Friends? Jean felt dazed for a moment, his senses overcome with the sound of laughter, the heat of a body and the smell of sweat on skin after a long day of training.


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N - Been working on other things but it's fun to come back to this! Let me know what you think.** _I do not own any of the characters from Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin but Misty is mine)_

**Chapter 4 - Marco**

The glare of the screen was hurting Marco's eyes but he didn't want to look away. He was too tired to look away. He hadn't slept in what felt like days and he knew there were bags growing ever deeper under his eyes. Insomnia was a pretty regular occurrence in Marco's new life but it had never been this extreme. Where before vivid memories woke him, crowding his mind, jostling for space and making him experience things he'd rather forget, now he just couldn't switch off. His mind never got close enough to shutting his eyes and drifting off because it was constantly ticking over. There never seemed to be a restful moment. All thoughts lead to Jean. For hours Marco would replay and examine everything that happened a few days ago. The confused expression on Jean's face, the lack of recognition in his eyes. The way he had backed off when Marco went to touch him. Jean was so close yet so distant, like a stranger. It was cruel. The world, fate, God, whatever you wanted to call it had dangled Jean in front of him, had given him something to hope for, then dashed that hope and made sure Jean would always be at arms length.

"Earth calling, Marco. Come in, Captain Freckles! This is Major Lee Awesome requesting confirmation of life."

Marco jolted, blinking rapidly against the brightness of the day and noticed for the first time that the main door had been propped open to let a breeze in. He glanced away from it, wondering when that had happened, and looked over at Misty. She had her chin propped on an open palm and was using her computer mouse as a pretend radio. When he met her eyes she smiled, made a radio static noise and then said, "Roger that. Over and out."

Rubbing his face, Marco tried to look apologetic. "Sorry I was..."

"Having a staring contest with your computer? Trying to figure out the meaning of the universe? Trying to move the mouse with your _miiiind_?" She made waving motions with her hands, nearly pulling the mouse out of its plug.

"Distracted," Marco finished, rubbing his eyes.

"I'll say!" Misty sat back in her office chair, turning it from side to side. "That Jean guy's got you real twisted up."

Marco was pretty sure he did an entirely pathetic job of trying not to look flustered. She'd read him so easily. "That's not...he didn't...I mean I..."

"Oh please," Misty stared at him with unconvinced eyes. "You went from Freckles to Marco the Angst Machine in five seconds flat when he didn't recognise you."

"I didn't…" Marco tried to deny, though he felt like he was fighting a losing battle before it'd even started in earnest. How was it she always knew precisely what was going on in his head? Besides the whole, I come from a different world where I was brutally killed by giant people, thing.

Misty entirely ignored him. "Freckles the brooding…" She paused, leaning close to her computer and tapping the keys in a sudden flurry of action. "Moping Marco?"

"Did you just put brood into an online thesaurus?"

She looked appalled. "I did no such thing. How dare you sully my name in this manner!" Misty turned back to her computer, squinting at the screen again. "Pining? Yeah that sounds like you."

Marco felt amusement bubble up from inside him and leapt up from his desk. He grabbed the back of Misty's chair and began to drag her away from the monitor. She clutched on for dear life, her fingers scrabbling at her unused keyboard tray. "Sulk? Pout?" She continued to yell until Marco stumbled into a filing box and, with a yelp and a crash, they both collapsed onto the floor laughing.

When their laughter died down, and Marco began to breathe more easily, the gloom came back and settled over him. He stared up at the ceiling, Misty's head on his stomach, and wondered if he'd ever be free of this sinking feeling that dogged him.

Eventually Misty pushed herself up and looked at Marco. "Really though. I dunno what deep shit you two do or do not have going on but if it's bothering you this much then just talk to the guy."

Marco pulled his legs under him and sat up, sighing. "I tried…"

Misty flicked Marco in the forehead. "Wrong. You ran away from him."

"I did not—Ow!" Misty had flicked him again, this time a little harder. Marco rubbed his forehead, scowling at the girl in front of him who glared back at him. "Okay, fine. But how do I even start?"

Misty grinned at him, which was truthfully quite scary, and then cleared her throat. "Yo, Titan boy. You're a hot piece of ass and no mistake. How's about we blow this popsicle stand and head on downtown, you feel?"

Marco raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

She just shrugged at him. "Well he is a hot piece of ass."

"Who's a hot piece of ass?" Jean's voice interrupted from the main door.

The sound made Marco's chest instantly constrict and he dropped his eyes to the floor, not knowing what to do.

"Elvis, clearly," Misty stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She was trying to pull the heat off Marco and he was grateful. "I mean those _hips._"

Jean laughed. It was quiet and uncertain but it was definitely a laugh. It was something Marco hadn't heard for a long time and it made him look up and lock eyes with Jean. The smile remained on his face. It was subtle but disarming. "Hi, Marco."

"Hey…"


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N - **I do not own any of the characters from Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin but Misty is mine**)**

**Chapter 5 - Jean**

Jean watched Marco pull himself to his feet and dust off his jeans. He looked about as awkward as Jean felt. A faint blush marred his cheeks and after having been so stunned by Jean's appearance and staring straight into his eyes, Marco was now looking anywhere else.

Silence reigned. Until…

"And hello, Misty!" Jean's eyes flicked to the woolly hat girl. Her neck was craned up to the pair of them, her half-smile showing she was amused but containing it. "Well hello, Jean. What a pleasant but not wholly unexpected turn of events. You showing up here, unannounced…"

"You gave me your card…" Jean reminded her, feeling unease prickling at the edges of his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, starting to feel uncertain about his decision to come here.

"That I did!" Misty bounced to her feet. She glanced at Marco briefly. He was hanging back and fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt, clearly uncomfortable. Jean didn't know why he'd felt compelled to come here today. Just ever since that day something kept making him look at the card abandoned on his coffee table. Something kept making him think about Marco, how he shouldn't have left it like that, how he should've tried harder. Jean just couldn't figure what he actually should've done. Looking at Marco now though, Jean felt like he was violating the guy's personal space and the instinct he'd built over the past few months to run whenever things got difficult was starting to kick into high gear.

But as he went to take a step back, Misty had grabbed his arm and was pulling him over to a desk. "Why don't you take a seat!" She almost threw Jean into the chair nearest them, unbalancing him but he managed to keep himself righted. "Excellent. That's you, in your seat…sat in the chair…"

Why did Jean get the distinct feeling she was making this up as she went along?

"Misty, maybe I should…" It was Marco's voice. Jean couldn't see him anymore but he felt a tingling at the back of his neck, signalling Marco's presence. He wanted to turn around.

"Should keep Jean company while I go find a publishing form! Why didn't I think of that?"

Jean gripped the arm rest on his chair, suddenly tense at the prospect of being alone with Marco. He turned just in time to see Misty disappearing off into a back room. _Oh, great. _Soon his eyes fell on Marco. The anxiety radiating off the guy was still potent. Jean should say something.

Marco beat him to it. "You're…going to publish your story in the magazine?" His brown eyes finally left the carpet and looked up at Jean.

"Yeah." Jean's voice sounded way too high. He cleared his throat self-consciously. "I mean. I guess…if it's good enough I suppose."

"I think it is," Marco gave him a quick smile.

Jean found himself rubbing the back of his neck again. "You do? Uh…cool. Thanks." He should ask Marco something, now they were actually talking. "Do…do you write?"

He nodded. "Yeah I—"

Marco's body suddenly tensed, his eyes growing dark and hooded. He clutched the right side of his body, shaking. "Not…not now," he strained out.

Then Marco's legs buckled.

Jean was out of his seat in a second. He caught Marco before he hit the floor, arms circling him as a cry of agony ripped from his throat.

"Misty!" Jean shouted, slumping onto the floor in order to keep a grip on Marco. The guy was writhing, his body jerking as pain wracked through him.

Misty appeared at the door way, a file box in hand. "I dunno. I leave you guys alone for five minutes and—" Her eyes took in the scene and she immediately dropped the file box and rushed over. "Shit..."

Another cry erupted from Marco and Jean turned panicked eyes on Misty. "What's happening? Shouldn't we call someone?" Jean had no idea what the fuck was going on he just knew that the sound of Marco's anguish was setting all his nerves on edge. They had to do something. _He _had to do something.

"It's okay. He's okay," Misty tried to soothe from her crouched position next to them.

Anger flared in Jean's chest. "He's not okay, Misty!" Marco's body gave another shudder making Jean grip him tighter. "He needs a Doctor!"

"No," Misty snapped. "No Doctor can help. They've never been able to. He just…he just has to ride it out like always."

Tense minutes passed with Marco lost to the suffering. His jaw was set in hard lines, his teeth clenched together when they weren't making way for his agonising yells. All colour had blanched from Marco's face and a sheen of sweat slicked his skin.

It was unbearable to watch.

Eventually Marco's body relaxed. His head dropped to the side onto Jean's chest, his cries now reduced to laboured breathing and the occasional gasp.

Misty had suggested laying him out on the floor but Jean had refused. He didn't like the idea of Marco being alone on the cold ground. Jean wanted to keep him close.

She disappeared for a moment when Marco had calmed and came back with a cup of something hot and set it down beside Jean. "He should wake up soon."

Jean gently pulled his left arm free and carefully picked up the cup. It looked like coffee inside and Jean took a grateful swig. "So this happens a lot?"

Misty crouched opposite him, on the other side of Marco, coffee in hand. "Yeah. Not been quite this bad for a while though."

Looking down at Marco, Jean wondered how many times he'd experienced this pain and how many times he'd been alone when it had happened. The thought made Jean's stomach drop. He barely knew this guy but felt so strangely connected to him.

"You don't have to stay you know. I can take it from here."

Jean shook his head and turned determined eyes on her. "I'm staying."


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N - Thanks for the reviews! I was seriously considering giving up until I got them :) **I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine**)**

**Chapter 6 - Marco**

Marco was drifting on the edge of consciousness, his mind not quite ready to make the leap to opening his eyes. He remained still, slowly breathing in and out and becoming more aware of his body with each breath. He could feel the dull ache in his tired muscles, could feel the rawness of his throat and the sweat chilling his skin as it evaporated. Fatigue sat heavy in every part of him, weighing him down and threatening to pull him back into oblivion.

The only thing keeping him anchored was the warmth at his side, holding him, and keeping him close. Marco leaned into it, relishing the sensation of it against his cool skin. Eventually he came to realise that a pair of strong arms circled him and he could hear the slow _thud, thud, thud, _of a heart beating inside a chest.

Marco blinked a couple of times, the light hurting his eyes but had seen enough to know who was holding him. "Mmh...Jean?" he murmured, trying to focus on his face. Everything else was fuzzy.

Jean's body shifted beneath him, his eyes concerned. "Marco? Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Marco sucked in a deep, shuddering, breath. He felt relieved. Jean was here. They were together. It was going to be okay. Marco took a moment to gingerly touch his head, Jean giving him room to do so. It was like someone had shoved wool into his skull. Everything was clogged and scratchy and it was hard to put anything in order. Marco tried though. "I...I had the strangest dream. I died, there was so much pain, Jean, but…I came back and you were there but...you didn't remember—"

The world around Marco had suddenly come into sharp and painful focus. Beyond Jean's shoulder he saw the outline of a computer monitor and, flicking his eyes up, Marco squinted against the buzzing fluorescent light. Machines whirred around him, the grey of concrete hemmed him in on all sides.

It wasn't a dream.

Marco tried to sit up and instantly regretted it. The room spun but Jean was already there, an arm around Marco's shoulder. "Maybe you shouldn't try to move just yet…"

"No…" Marco protested, suddenly finding the presence of Jean's arms around him distressing rather than comforting. "I have to…I need to…" He pulled away from Jean but was still too weak to stand. "Where's Misty?"

Jean continued to linger near Marco. Too near. "She said something about getting supplies in case your, and this is a direct quote, 'freckled ass didn't get a move on and wake up.'"

"Right," Marco replied weakly, keeping his back to Jean. He didn't think he could deal with being alone with him right now. The pain he experienced was often accompanied with the memory of dying, the fear, and the terrible sense of loss. For the first time, for a second, Marco thought everything was back to normal but instead he just got a front row seat to the 'Jean doesn't remember you' show. It was too much. He really needed Misty around to act as a buffer at the moment.

Feeling steadier, Marco pulled his legs beneath him and stood shakily. He stumbled to the doorway through to the backroom, using it to prop himself up. Jean followed closely, like a shadow Marco couldn't escape.

"I really think you should sit down or something," he said from next to Marco's shoulder.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look—" Jean made to grab for his arm but Marco jerked away.

"Don't touch me," Marco growled. Then instantly hated himself. He daren't look at Jean in that moment. He didn't want to see the confusion or hurt he'd caused. Sighing, Marco leaned more heavily against the doorway. "Sorry…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. I just…"

"So!" Misty's bright voice filled the room. "I see his Freckled Highness has finally woken his royal ass up."

Marco glanced back and noted, with a sinking feeling, that Jean had backed up significantly. His hands had returned to their positions inside his jacket pockets and his face was closed off, his eyes locked on the wall nearest him.

Misty stood in the main doorway, blankets in hand and watching the both of them. "Guess we don't need these anymore," she gestured the woolly, tartan covered blankets. Her eyes settled on Marco and she smiled reassuringly.

"I should go," Jean said, striding to the door before anyone could say anything.

Stepping quickly out of his way, Misty sighed as he disappeared. "So…which one of you stabbed a kitten?"

Marco stared at her. "What?"

"Only thing that explains all the guilty, brooding looks going on in here just now." She dropped the blankets onto Marco's desk and walked up to him. "I'll have you know though. Anyone caught killing kittens in my office will have their testicles removed with a rusty knife."

Marco huffed a strained laugh.

Misty came closer and touched his forehead. "Are you okay? You feel cold."

Nodding, Marco pushed her hand away. "I'm fine. I just…I really want to sleep."

"Yeah, no shit," Misty smiled. "Come on. Let's get you home."

* * *

The next day Marco was back at his desk and, even though guilt over yesterday wracked him, he felt more rested than he had done in a while. In fact, he was so absorbed in the story he was currently considering for the magazine he didn't even notice when a man wandered into the office. Neither did he look up when the man came to the side of Marco's desk.

The first indication Marco had that anyone was there besides him and Misty was when a take-away cup of coffee was placed down next to his hand. Marco stared at it, confused, then lifted his eyes to the person who'd put it there.

Jean wore his usual faded jacket, one hand shoved into the pocket, the other wrapped around another take-away cup. He lifted it to his lips and took a quick sip, swallowing before nodding at Marco. "I work at a coffee place, thought you might need a pick me up."

Marco looked from Jean, to the coffee, and back again. He didn't know what to say. He didn't think Jean would come back here in a million years, especially not after yesterday. But there he was, standing right next to Marco's desk. "I…" Marco tried to think of something to say.

"Where the fuck is _my _coffee?" Misty shouted from her desk.

Jean looked terrified and Marco couldn't help but snigger at his expression, making Jean laugh too.

"It's not funny!"


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N - Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think and thank you for the lovely comments! **_I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine_**)**

**Chapter 7 - Jean**

Misty whistled long and high as she looked down at a stack of boxes. "Wow. Those look like some _painfully_ heavy boxes." She paused, letting her words sink in and Jean already knew what was coming. Her eyes locked onto him and she smiled sweetly. "Feeling strong, Titan boy?"

Jean groaned and pushed himself up from a crouched position next to the lone, rusting, filing cabinet in the office. It had been a week and a half since Jean had forgotten to bring coffee for Misty and she was still punishing him. It started with her demanding he bring a coffee for her the next day. Then just as Jean was thinking he'd out stayed his welcome, she started to ask him to do little tasks around the office. Staple this. File that. Massage my shoulders—Jean had refused that particular request. He thought about arguing back more but, even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he actually liked being at the office. When Misty wasn't badgering him it was peaceful, but not lonely. It was different and nice.

Eventually Misty moved on to asking him to sort through the backroom, which meant a lot of heavy lifting and inhalation of dust. Now he was there practically every day, wedging time at the office between his shifts at the coffee place near his flat. Misty had even offered to pay him a little for his time.

Things were still awkward between him and Marco. Mostly Marco was distracted with stuff around the office just like Jean was. They usually said hello to each other, maybe made a bit of idle chat about the weather or the coffee Jean brought and then went about their business. Neither spoke of Marco's pain that day, or said a word about how Jean had held Marco until he woke. An invisible barrier seemed to have formed between them. It was fragile and Jean didn't want to push too hard against it. Partly because he was afraid of what it could mean and partly because he saw how Marco was trying to avoid him. It was subtle, he was never mean, but he was definitely trying to keep Jean at a distance.

Jean wondered if it was because of what he'd said that day. If it was because Marco remembered that he'd spoken to Jean as though they were close, as though he felt utterly comfortable being with him. Maybe he was just embarrassed. No, it felt like more than that. Everything had snapped back to reality so quickly when Marco realised where he was. One moment it was just the two of them and the next they were strangers again. And that pained, lost expression from the first day they met had returned to Marco's face when he snapped at Jean. Whatever was going on with Marco was much more than just embarrassment.

All that Jean knew for sure was that the words kept circulating in his head, kept repeating. He knew they meant something, that they were important but he didn't know why.

_You didn't remember._

What didn't he remember? Jean had thought about straight out asking Marco but that idea felt similar to pouring salt into an open wound.

Misty cleared her throat and Jean shook himself, trying to clear his head and strode over to her. She gave him a quick smile then stepped aside to let Jean next to the boxes. He lifted the first one, which felt like it had rocks in the bottom of it, and turned towards the back room. As he shifted, he caught sight of Marco. He was on the phone with someone, chatting away, smiling, and then he laughed.

Jean's vision narrowed and then flickered, the office disappearing from view. Marco was stood in front of him. He looked different, younger. He was wearing a uniform, a cropped jacket with a patch on it that showed crossed swords. His face was lit up in amusement, the smile for Jean alone.

The box slipped from Jean's hands and landed on his foot with a loud thud.

Jean staggered, a hand going to his head. "What...?"

"Oh come on. It wasn't that heavy!" Misty chided from next to him.

But Jean was too disorientated to care. What the hell was that? Why was Marco...?

He glanced up, wanting to check where Marco was, wanting to try and make some sense of what he'd just seen. Marco was still at his desk, though now he was turned towards Jean, the phone forgotten, the concern in his features palpable even across the room. "Jean? What's wrong?"

Jean shook his head, trying to rid himself of the vision. Feeling like he was losing it. He felt Misty touch his shoulder reassuringly but it only made him jump and shake her off.

"I'm fine. I just...felt dizzy or something." He straightened. "I need some air." Jean made haste towards the door, trying not to run out of the little office. He let the door slam shut behind him and breathed in a deep lung full of air. Rubbing a hand over his face, Jean leant against the wall and slid down it till he was sat with his knees up. _Get a grip, Jean. _He scolded himself, bowing his head. He didn't know how long he sat like that, going over that image of Marco in his head, trying to muddle through why he was in a uniform, what it all meant and why it rattled him so much.

The main door clicked open and shut next to him and Jean raised his head to see Misty in her blue checked duffel coat, looking down at him with an eyebrow raised. "So…did you vom?"

"What?" Jean asked, confused.

"Did you throw up?"

He wrinkled his nose at the question. "No."

Misty looked pleased. "Good because those boxes still need moving." She stepped off the curb, car keys jangling in her hand.

"Where are you going?" Jean called after her.

"To get swept off my feet hopefully!" She was at her car now.

"You're going on a date?" He did a poor job of masking his surprise.

Misty scowled, unlocking the back door and throwing her bag inside. "Yes, actually because _shockingly_ my life doesn't revolve around you two idiots." She sounded annoyed but she winked at Jean before jumping in her car and driving off.

Sighing, Jean pushed himself up and pulled all his nerves back together before stepping into the office again.

Marco looked up as soon as he stepped through the door and offered a sheepish smile. "Everything okay?"

Jean offered a smile and a nod in return, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Fine." They hadn't really been alone since that day and Jean didn't want to fuck things up. Mentioning what he saw was definitely not an option. What would he even say anyway? 'Hey Marco, I just had a vision of you in uniform.' It didn't exactly give the best of impressions. After a few beats of awkward silence, Jean moved off to the abandoned boxes and Marco went back to his computer.

When Jean was done he eyed the time. His shift at the coffee shop would be starting soon. He went over to the coat rack, shrugged his jacket on and placed a beanie over his now incredibly messy hair. As he was picking up his backpack he noticed the rolled up pages of his latest story poking out. _Shit._ He'd forgotten all about wanting to show it to Marco.

Jean chanced a glance over to him and saw that he was typing away at his computer. _Just do it. _Jean tried to egg himself on. _What's the worst that can happen? _Before he could lose his nerve, Jean snatched the pages and strode over to Marco.

"Err…Marco?"

Marco jumped and quickly exited out of something on the computer but when he turned to Jean he was all smiles as usual. "Hey, Jean."

"I was erm…I mean…" Jean could feel heat rising to his cheeks and loathed himself. _It's just a fucking story, Jean. _He thrust the pages into Marco's hands, who looked surprised but still took them. "I wrote something new and I was hoping maybe you could have a look and give me some feedback," Jean said it all so fast he wondered if Marco had understood any of it.

He watched the other man turn the pages in his hands and for a moment thought Marco was going to refuse when something dark passed over his eyes but instead he smiled up at Jean. "Sure. I'd love to."

Jean breathed a sigh of relief. "Great! I mean good…err thanks."

The awkward silence was soon interrupted by the screeching tones of Jean's phone. He snatched it out of his pocket, embarrassed. "Sorry I thought I—" Jean cut himself off when he read the caller ID and backtracked. "I should take this erm, see you tomorrow, Marco."

He high-tailed it out the door, not even waiting for Marco to reply and answered the call. The voice on the other line didn't wait for him to speak.

"Where is it, Jean?" the man said, his gruff voice crackling through the small speaker.

"I told you. I don't have it yet. Just give me another week."

There was a pause where Jean thought his heart might beat its way out of his chest and then the man spoke again. "One week, Jean. No excuses."

The line went dead and Jean fought the urge to throw his phone on the floor and smash it into a million pieces. _Fuck. _


	8. Chapter 8

**(A/N - Yes I should be doing a million and one other things but sssshhh. **I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine**)**

**Chapter 8 - Marco**

Marco perched on the end of his bed and hitched a leg up to pull his socks on. His mind was wandering, thinking about what he needed to do at the office. That was until he caught sight of the story pages discarded on the top of the chest of drawers in front of him.

Jean's story.

It had been a couple of days since Jean had approached him about reading it and he still hadn't even looked at it. The pages just sat there, mocking Marco, making him feel like an utter douchebag. Jean seemed so nervous when he'd practically thrown the story at Marco. It reminded him of when Jean would reluctantly ask for help in training. A blush would creep onto his cheeks, he'd avoid Marco's gaze and then he'd speak at a million miles per hour. It was utterly endearing as far as Marco was concerned but now it just made him sad. And that was the point really. This wasn't just a story. If Jean's last piece was anything to go by, this was going to be more like a memory, like a slice of their former life. But to Jean it was still fictional, something he'd made up and that made discussing it with him too painful to even comprehend.

Marco put his leg back down and stood, approaching the white pages. But then again…wasn't Jean just as alone as he had been? As much as it pained Marco to be around him sometimes shouldn't he consider Jean in all of this? It wasn't his fault he couldn't remember. But why didn't he remember?

Marco's phone buzzed loudly across the top of his bedside table and he dashed over to it. Misty's name flashed on the screen and Marco answered. "Hello?"

"So you still haven't read it yet then?"

Marco couldn't help but glance around the room, seriously considering the fact that Misty had bugged his flat. "I haven't had…it's just that—"

"Blah, blah, angst, angst. Stop being a dick and read it. He obviously gave it to you for a reason," Misty scolded.

Marco sighed. "I know that…"

"You're going to have to stop avoiding him at some point."

"I'm not—"

"Buuuullshiiiiit," Misty sang down the phone. "Sheesh. I've never met two guys as emotionally constipated as you two." Marco rolled his eyes, even though she may have had a point.

"Look. This guy literally held you, a guy he barely knows, for hours just so you weren't alone and you've repaid him by being awkward, avoiding him, and refusing to read his story. And I've seen his face, Marco. He knows you're doing it. He knows you're uncomfortable around him, no matter how many times you use your fake smile. So just get it together and come keep me company. I'm lonely."

Marco was going to argue back but something occurred to him. "Lonely? Isn't Jean there?"

"Nope. But don't you worry. He'll be getting an earful just like you. Now huuuuurrrrry!" The line went dead.

Marco stared at the blank screen for a moment and then shoved his phone into his pocket. Jean usually worked afternoons or evenings at the coffee place and stopped by the office on his mornings off. Sometimes he even got there before him or Misty and would be slouched against the wall waiting to be let in. So where was he?

As he dashed around the flat picking up his keys, headphones and whatever else. Marco couldn't help but worry. Even though there was a voice in the back of his head whispering that he was just being paranoid and maybe Jean had swapped shifts, Marco couldn't help feeling worried. He shoved his boots on, unlocked the door, paused, and then with a sigh of irritation ran back and grabbed Jean's story from his bedroom. Maybe it was time to stop being selfish and thinking about his pain and start thinking about Jean a little more.

When he eventually pushed into the office, Misty appeared to be trying to use both her own chair and Marco's as a make shift bed. "Finally!" She said, scrambling to her feet.

"He's still not here?" Marco asked, eyes flitting to the back room.

"Nope." There was a pause and when Marco looked back at Misty she had a knowing smile on her face. "Worried?"

Marco knew he was blushing, which just made Misty grin even wider. "Stop looking at me like that."

"As you wish, your Freckled Highness." Misty bowed low, her short brown bob flopping over her face.

Shaking his head, Marco went over to the coat rack, dropped his bag on the floor and hung his jacket up. He pulled Jean's story out the pocket at the front of his bag and folded it under his arm.

"Coffee? Since Titan boy is a no show." Misty called as he made his way over to his desk.

"Please," he called back, cringing at the mention of Jean.

He retrieved his chair from next to Misty's desk and sat down heavily, smoothing the pages of Jean's story out in front of him. He guessed there was nothing for it. Marco was going to read this story and he was going to be nicer to Jean.

As if on cue, Jean walked through the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair as usual in disarray. Marco glanced up and felt a hello dry up in his throat. A large bruise purpled underneath Jean's eye and travelled across to the bridge of his nose where a small scab was forming.

Marco stood up immediately and came round his desk to stand in front of Jean. "What happened…" he raised a hand up to Jean's face but the other man pushed it away.

"It's fine. I just came to—"

"It's not fine," Marco snapped. "Did someone do this to you?"

Jean looked put out and uncomfortable. "Look, it's nothing. Really. It was just an accident."

Marco's jaw tensed. It didn't look like an accident at all. It looked like someone had clearly meant to do Jean harm and that made Marco's blood boil.

"Well look who finally decided to—well shit." Misty appeared beside Marco, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. "If you're trying to do an impression of a panda you're doing a rotten job. Who did this to you?"

"No one. I already told Marco. It was an accident."

Misty glanced at Marco. "Yeah and judging by the murderous look in his eye I reckon he called you on your bullshit."

Jean was mad now, his eyes frantic. "It's _fine _okay. I'm fine. I just came to say I can't come by as much anymore. I have to…I have to do extra shifts. So see you around I guess."

He went to turn but Marco grabbed his wrist, staying him. "Hey, we just want to help. Just tell us who did it and—"

"And what?" Jean shouted, yanking his arm from Marco's grip. "Don't pretend you give a shit about me. You can barely look me in the eye. I'll be fine by myself. I always have been." He stomped away from them, slamming the door roughly behind him.

Marco deflated back onto the edge of his desk. _Good job, Marco. You royally fucked that up. _


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N - Hope you enjoy! - **I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine**)**

**Chapter 9 - Jean**

Jean didn't know if you could aggressively steam milk but if you could then he was definitely doing exactly that. He was fresh from getting ripped a new one by his boss about turning up late with an added reminder about how shit his face was currently looking and how it reflected bad on the business. And Jean was in such a bad mood that he may have given lip back about how it wasn't his fault some douchebag decided to punch him in the face. This wasn't the smartest move since only a couple of days ago Jean was begging his boss for extra shifts. Now it was only two days until his week was up and he was well and truly fucked. The black eye was just a taster of what was in store for Jean.

He shut off the steamer and slammed the base of the metal jug against the counter, perhaps a little too hard. _Idiot. Fucking stupid ass idiot. _He banged the jug a few more times then finally poured the milk into the waiting paper cup. He shoved the lid on, gave the name a quick glance, then swivelled on his heel towards the waiting customers.

"Marc—" He stalled when he realised whose name he was saying.

"Hey, Jean," Marco smiled back at him from over the counter. The cold had reddened his cheeks, his hair in disarray from the brisk winter winds and around his neck was a tightly pulled red scarf. He unzipped his jacket before leaning across and taking the coffee from Jean. "Got a minute?"

"Erm…" Jean didn't know what to say. Why was Marco here? "I dunno…"

"Please," Marco persisted.

It was in that moment Jean realised what people meant about puppy dog eyes. He didn't think Marco's eyes could get any bigger or his expression more sincere.

Jean rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing Marco and then his shift manager. He really shouldn't. He was in enough trouble as it was. But a part of him was also curious about what Marco was going to say. After Jean had left the office the other day he didn't expect to see either Misty or Marco again. Okay maybe he expected Misty, he didn't think she would give up on her box moving slave so easily, but definitely not Marco.

Jean deflated and turned to his boss, catching her eye and hoping she would be forgiving. "Can I take five?"

She looked put out but relented. "Don't be long."

He nodded and pulled his apron off before approaching the counter and flipping it up. When he turned back around Marco was standing way too close, his coffee cup practically in Jean's face. _Shit._

"Oh, sorry," Marco said, taking a step away from Jean and giving him room to breathe.

"No that's…I mean don't worry…" _Fuck. Why was it so hard to talk to this guy?_ "Wanna sit?" Jean asked, trying to change tack quickly. He scanned the room and spotted some abandoned seats at the back of the shop.

"Sure," Marco replied but Jean was already making his way over to the table. _Just hear him out. That's all you have to do._

Jean slumped into the nearest seat, arms crossed firmly over his chest and waited for Marco to sit opposite him. When he did Jean wondered whether anyone in the history of the world could've sat more awkwardly than Marco did at that precise moment. He looked so uncomfortable and glanced around, clearly stalling. But Jean thought that was more to do with his presence than the actual coffee shop.

"It's…nice here," Marco observed.

"It's okay," Jean shrugged, knowing that this definitely wasn't the most hip of coffee places in town. It was more of the cheap and cheerful kind of place but Jean didn't care, they were flexible with his shifts.

Marco's eyes finally fell on him and Jean had to resist the temptation to sink further down into his seat. "How's your eye?" He asked.

"It hurts less I suppose," Jean said, self-consciously brushing his fingertips over the bruise.

"Good…"

They lapsed into silence and Marco took a long sip of his coffee. Jean wished he'd made himself one just so he had something to do with his hands. But as he had only _just_ thought of that genius plan, Jean settled for uncrossing his arms and picking at the fraying plastic covering the table. This place really was a shit hole.

After several more moments and sips of coffee, Marco settled his paper cup on the table and began drumming his fingers against it. This was ridiculous. It was just the same as always. Awkward.

Jean sighed and pushed himself up. "Look, it was nice to see you and all but I should really be getting back—"

"No," Marco interrupted and Jean stilled, hovering above his seat. "Please stay just a little longer?"

Glancing at his shift manager, who looked busy but not stressed, Jean decided to endure the awkwardness. "Okay." He sat back down, this time with a leg hitched under him so he could spring up should his shift manager decide he'd been away too long

Marco took a deep breath, spinning his coffee cup in his hand and concentrating on it rather than Jean. "About the other day…well not just the other day but all the times…well…ugh just…" he looked up directly at Jean now. "I'm sorry."

Jean just stared back at him, not having expected the apology. No one ever cared enough to apologise to Jean. He didn't know how to respond but that didn't matter because once those two words were out it was like a dam had been breached in Marco. He started speaking quickly, his fingers fidgeting with the cup, shifting it from side to side and fiddling with the cardboard protector.

"I've been told that my behaviour wasn't exactly…well it wasn't great. I just…I have a lot of stuff going on, not that it's an excuse, but I find it hard to…well…it's just that there's stuff, stuff I've not even told Misty, and sometimes it gets in the way and—"

Jean slammed his hand down on the cup, stilling it and stopping Marco's stream of words. Marco's eyes cut up to Jean and he tried to hold the gaze. "Don't worry about it."

Marco's sheepish smile returned. "But—"

"Jean! Break's over!" His shift manager's voice barked over the customers' collective mutterings.

Jean cursed under his breath and tried to look apologetic as he got up from the seat. "Sorry, I have to…"

Marco stopped him again by grabbing his wrist but this time Jean didn't pull his arm away. "Maybe we can talk more later? At the office?"

Biting his lip, Jean considered the offer. If there was a chance of an extra shift later, Jean really had to take it and he'd tried to break away from Marco and Misty for a reason. He didn't want to disappoint Marco but he also didn't want to involve him in anything. "Erm maybe in a couple of days, yeah?"

Marco relinquished his grip and nodded. "Okay."

Annoyingly all the evening shifts had already been taken up so Jean couldn't pull over time. He'd begged but his shift manager was having none of it. Only two days left and he didn't have near enough what he needed.

Jean stepped out of the coffee shop and shrugged his jacket on, zipping it up against the cold. He shoved his hands into his pockets and started off towards his flat. His thoughts turned to Marco, thinking about him in the coffee shop today, about how Jean got that feeling off him again. It was the same as the first day they met, that charge that seemed to be pulling Jean in whether he wanted to be or not. And that eerie sense of familiarity was still there, making interactions with the guy seem like a constant trip of déjà vu.

He didn't notice the man loitering at the corner.

Or how that man followed him.

But Jean struggled when he was nearly lifted off his feet by the collar of his jacket and thrown into the shadows and grime of an alley.

He scrambled onto his back and saw a figure looming large over him.

"Time to pay up, Kirschtein."

Jean wiped his cheek where it had grazed against the ground. "Bullshit. I have two days still."

"Not anymore," the man growled.

"But…" Jean inched back, his eyes darting around, looking for some escape but seeing none, his bravado quickly disappearing. "I don't have it. He told me…"

"Not good enough," the man said, making some sort of signal with his hand.

Jean was grabbed roughly by the arms from behind and pinned to the floor. His face pressed deep into the sludge of the alley and try as he might, he couldn't struggle free. _Shit._

The first kick knocked the wind out of Jean, leaving him spluttering. The second connected with bone and cracked a rib. By the third all Jean knew was the sharp pain of it radiating throughout his body and by the fourth, or maybe it was the fifth, everything was beginning to get hazy and dark.


	10. Chapter 10

**(A/N - Descriptions of blood and hurtiness in this chapter just to warn you! **I do not own any characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine**)**

**Chapter 10 - Marco**

When Marco, feeling dejected, finally pushed back into the office that afternoon he found Misty leant back in her chair attempting to balance a pen pot on her forehead.

She caught sight of him but didn't move from her position. "The wanderer returns!" She very slowly lifted her hand and pointed at the pen pot. "Check this out."

Marco shook his head but still felt the twitch of a smile on his lips. "Been busy without me then?" he asked, pulling his scarf loose.

Misty sat up quickly, catching the pen pot in her hand and slamming it back on the desk. "Exceedingly so! How dare you abandon me in my hour…_hours…_of need. There was stuff, Marco. Work stuff. People asked me…_questions_…"

Having made his way over to the coat rack, Marco huffed a small laugh then hung up his coat and scarf. "How awful," he indulged, walking back over to her and taking a seat at his desk.

She sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You have _no _idea."

Marco laughed quietly again, then turned his attention to clicking his computer back to life. He didn't feel much like playing around with Misty at the moment. Going to see Jean had put him in a strange mood. He'd been so anxious beforehand, to the point where Misty had literally pushed him out the door, and when he finally got there he'd ended up having a severe case of verbal diarrhoea. The only thing worse than all of that was the lack of anything from Jean. Sure he'd been polite to Marco, he'd been civil but nothing more and that sort of left Marco feeling cut adrift, unsure of his footing. But he supposed that made him the biggest hypocrite because wasn't that exactly what he'd done to Jean?

"Stop worrying, he won't stay away long."

Misty's voice made Marco start and he immediately glanced to her, feeling a blush heat his face. She was gazing at her computer screen, her head slightly tilted as though she was considering something work related and hadn't just spoken to him.

"I wasn't…"

"You should know by now that I can tell when shit's going on in your head," Misty shifted her eyes from the screen to Marco. "Besides, only one person makes your face look like that."

Marco ducked his head, unnerved once more that Misty always seemed to know something was bothering him.

"Marco…" Misty's voice was soft, coaxing him to turn back to her. He did and she smiled softly. "You apologised didn't you?"

Marco nodded.

"Then he'll come back."

He didn't know what to say to her. Marco wanted to believe that she was right, that eventually, when Jean was ready, they could maybe try and be friends properly this time. But in Marco's life, the both of them, nothing had ever gone to plan. Something always got in the way.

"Now," Misty slammed her palm down on the desk, catching Marco's attention again. "Are you _seriously_ never going to ask how my date was? Because dude…you totally owe me for all my wisdomous moments."

"Wisdomous?"

"Yes. Wisdomous." Misty pushed her chair closer to Marco without further explanation, her grin turning into a sly smile. "So…let's get down to the _details _shall we?"

Marco groaned and couldn't help but smile back at his friend as she gestured wildly, reenacting parts of her date, sometimes in a little too much detail.

* * *

A few hours later Misty had practically danced out of the office, apparently ready for date number two, leaving Marco to lock up.

Marco checked the back door was locked and then walked around slowly, making sure everything was switched off. Electricity still unnerved him enough that he would double check everything was off at the wall. If he didn't he always started to imagine that he'd accidentally set something on fire and all that would be left in the morning was a smouldering pile of ash.

When his checks were done he headed towards the door, pulling his jacket on and going out into the crisp night. The door shut with a soft click behind him and he dug around in his pocket for his keys. They jangled as he put them into the lock and turned, the lock clunking into place.

"Marco…"

The whisper was quiet and strained but with the night so still around Marco it felt like a fog horn had gone off next to his ear. He turned quickly to his left. "Who's—" Marco immediately stopped, all words whisked away from him.

Jean leant heavily against the wall, jacket nowhere to be seen, shirt filthy and ripped. He held an arm protectively and gingerly over his stomach, the other hanging loosely at his side. The security light above the door spilled onto his face, picking out the most obvious damage. Blood. There was so much blood. It oozed from the freshly opened scab on Jean's nose, trickled from a cut on his forehead, and smeared down his chin from a split lip.

"Jean…" Marco felt like he had forgotten how to form words. Jean was a mess of blood, grime, and pain.

Jean tried to take a step forward but faltered, his leg locking and shaking under his weight. He hissed in pain from the jerky movement but that in turn seemed to hurt him and a look of defeat crossed his face as he began to slide down the wall. "Marco," he struggled.

"Shit…" Marco ran forward, desperately wanting to help but not knowing where he could touch Jean without hurting him. He crouched down in front of him. "What…what…" What happened was what he wanted to ask. But the importance of that question seemed to dim when he took in more of Jean's state. Questions could wait. He just needed to get Jean up and moving. "Jean. Hey. Look at me. I need you to stand up, can you do that?"

Jean's eyes were hollow when they looked at him, his breathing shallow and stuttered, like it was hurting him to even take the air in. "I...I can't..."

"Okay. That's okay." Marco inched closer. "Here, we'll do it together." He attempted to gently sling Jean's arm over his shoulder.

Jean instantly cried out and Marco cursed himself, panic starting to set in now. He didn't think he could do it alone and with Jean in so much pain. He carefully leant Jean back against the wall again and fumbled his phone out of his pocket, his hands shaking. He needed help. "Okay, I'm going to call for an ambu—"

The last word made Jean strike out. He gripped Marco's arm tightly. "No," Jean's voice wavered but had more strength to it than anything else he'd said so far.

"But you need—"

Jean's fingers dug in, cutting Marco off. "Please. Not the hospital..."

Marco shifted his gaze from Jean's grip to his eyes. What he saw there both confused and surprised Marco. Jean was afraid. And not just a flicker of fear either, Jean was terrified. Of what he couldn't exactly be sure. Whether it was of the authorities, who might find him, or just the hospital itself. Whatever it was made a sense of urgency and purpose course through Marco. Glimmers of the training he'd received as a soldier started to come back to him. He could deal with this. He _had _to deal with this. It was Jean in front of him. Even if he couldn't remember who he was, even if he never would, he was still Jean and he needed Marco's help.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Marco focused on Jean. "Alright. No hospital. But we need to get you somewhere warm, deal?"

Jean tipped his head back against the wall, letting go of Marco, his breathing still ragged. "D...deal."

Marco made sure to keep hold of Jean's gaze. "I'm going to take you to my place. It's just round the corner but I don't drive so we need to walk, okay?"

Jean swallowed and gently nodded his head.

"Okay, good." He lifted Jean's arm again but this time Jean didn't make a sound. When Marco glanced at him, he saw that Jean's jaw was tightly clenched together. "Right. I'm gonna lift you on three. It's gonna hurt but just try and bear with it."

Jean didn't respond but Marco took the silence to mean he was ready and as prepared as he could be. "One, two, _three_!"

This time Jean's cry was more muffled, strangled, and Marco knew that he was desperately trying to keep it in. He hated that he was hurting Jean but there was just nothing else for it.

Before they set off, Marco pulled more of Jean's weight onto himself to try and lessen the stress on Jean's body. He felt so cold to the touch, and Marco wondered how far he'd walked just to get to the office. He had to push down the temptation to hurry and try and keep their pace at a speed that was remotely comfortable for Jean.

They set off slowly, Jean groaning and tensing at every step. Marco tried to look determinedly ahead because if he looked at Jean his resolve not to go to the hospital would definitely break.


	11. Chapter 11

**(A/N - Sorry it's been so long! I've been a wee bit busy! Hope you enjoy :) - **I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine!)

**Chapter 11 - Jean**

The first time Jean woke up he began to panic. He had no idea where he was. The room was unfamiliar, strange, and for a moment he flashed back to a cold and empty hospital room. The warm glow of a lamp became the burning intensity of a fluorescent bulb. The soft, clean sheets became the harsh starched material that strapped him to a cold metal bed. And the low hubbub of honking cars beyond the window became the beeping of machines, the shouting of Doctors and the melee of pain and distress.

Jean couldn't breathe.

It all came crushing down on him, pressing down on his chest, making his breath catch in his throat. He struggled to a sitting position, forgetting for a moment the pain at his side. He glanced around desperately for something familiar, for something to anchor himself to, anything to pull himself away from the bleakness and smell of anti-septic.

Jean's eyes found Marco.

He was propped up in the corner of the room, a pillow cushioning his head against the wall. He slept soundly, his phone discarded on the floor next to one of his hands, a blanket covering his long legs from the knees down.

Marco was here.

Jean relaxed back slightly, his breathing evening out, a hand going to his side. Everything was beginning to come back to him now piece by hazy piece. The coffee shop. The men. The pain. And then Marco.

He glanced down at his bare, bruised, torso and noted the large dressing covering part of his chest. He remembered shaking hands pressing it on. He remembered the stinging burn of disinfectant and water. He remembered Marco helping him into the bed, trying to be gentle and careful. But everything was a jumble, there was no order to it or larger picture. It was like a puzzle that couldn't be slotted together. Jean must've been pretty out of it by the time they'd gotten here and he barely knew how he'd even made it to Marco in the first place.

As if sensing his returning awareness, Jean's body began to thrum with pain. Everything hurt. Everything ached. His face felt swollen, his head sore and his ribs felt like they were grating against each other. A wave of exhaustion hit him, making the room dim around Jean. He chanced another looked at Marco, still sound asleep against the wall, and then eased himself back down.

Sleep took him quickly, all consuming and dreamless.

When Jean woke for the second time it seemed to be day. Sunlight poured into the room and spilled across the bed, warming him. The panic he'd felt the first time he'd woken was gone but so too was the delayed pain. This time he felt heavy with it, like someone had tied rocks to the bottom of his body and they were slowly dragging him further and further into the mattress. He groggily craned his neck to where Marco had been asleep before and found the spot empty. The pillow and blanket remained, discarded on the floor, but Marco and his phone were nowhere to be seen.

Jean lay there for a little while, watching the empty spot, thinking about how long he'd been asleep for and then gradually he began to hear something. It sounded like a voice. A voice coming from just beyond the bedroom door. It sounded like Marco.

Remaining still, and unwilling to get up for the time being, Jean strained to listen. He could hear the pad of footsteps on carpet, like Marco was pacing up and down the room or hall beyond this. And then Marco's voice sounded again.

"He's just sleeping. He has been for hours."

There was a pause like he was waiting for someone to answer but no one ever did. Jean realised he must be on the phone.

"I am _not_going to poke him in the face, Misty."

Of course, who else would Marco be talking to.

"He's not dead…will you just shut up, I'm not going to poke him," Marco sighed. "I can't…because I promised him no hospitals…well it doesn't matter now anyway. It's not like I can flip him off the bed and then roll him down the road to the hospit—"

Marco's pacing abruptly cut off and then his tone changed, like he was trying to placate a small child. "No, Misty…no that's not what I…Misty don't you dare—_shit!_"

The pause was longer this time and, wondering what was happening, Jean gingerly began to push himself up. His body screamed at him, his muscles constricting, his vision blurring. It all conspired together to make sitting up feel like Jean had just run a fucking marathon. Once he was finally upright, Jean gulped down large lungfuls of air, which in turn sent shockwaves of sharp pain across his side and chest. _Damn it._This was harder than he expected.

By the time Jean felt like he might be able to stand up, Marco was already back on the phone.

"Misty! What are you plan—why the hell would I need that? Ugh nevermind…just don't come here, okay…because I don't know if Jean wants you to know…oh come on don't sulk…"

Listening to Marco's side of this conversation was utterly confusing and actually a little bit comical. Jean could only imagine the types of things Misty was saying to him. And maybe he was a little glad that Marco was putting her off coming. He didn't know whether he could handle that much energy in one person at the moment.

"Look, I'll keep you updated, alright?" Another sigh. "Yes, I promise not to violate Jean."

Jean started, his eyebrows shooting up, and then huffed a small laugh. He could practically feel Marco facepalming.

"Misty, I gotta go. I think I heard something…okay, yeah…bye…"

Jean tensed as he heard the bedroom door opening and watched as Marco stepped in, squinting against the bright sunshine. He looked dishevelled. His t-shirt hung lopsided, exposing part of his right shoulder and collar bone and his hair stuck up in random places.

He clocked Jean. "Oh…you're awake!"

Jean tried to smile at him, his bruised lip making it difficult. "Yeah," he croaked, realising he was actually quite thirsty. He glanced to the bedside table for some water but Marco beat him to it.

He rushed forward, grabbing the glass of water and offering it to Jean. "How do you feel?"

Taking the glass gratefully, Jean took a long sip and then handed it back to Marco. "I err…I'm okay I guess…" He didn't know what to say, whether he felt better or not. He couldn't remember how much pain he was in before and whether it was more or less than what he felt now. The very act of trying to remember was starting to make his head throb. He touched a hand gingerly to his forehead, closing his eyes against the ache. "Sorry, everything's still a bit..."

"Does your head hurt?"

Jean heard the clink of glass against wood and then felt the bed depress next to him. He snapped his eyes open but Marco was already too close. His fingertips brushed against Jean's forehead, they felt cold against his skin yet the touch held so much warmth. Jean might've unconsciously leant into it if Marco hadn't grazed the cut just at Jean's hairline. He hissed and recoiled back from Marco.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Marco apologised quickly.

When Jean looked back at him he looked panicked and maybe a little red. "It's…it's fine." Jean tried to think of something to say to get rid of the weird atmosphere. "Just…maybe try not to poke me in the face."

Marco looked startled for a moment and then an amused smile slid onto his lips. "She means well."

"Just as long as she means well elsewhere. I don't want another broken rib," Jean offered an uncertain smile back, hoping his attempt at humour had worked.

Marco chuckled. "Maybe I should check the locks just in case."

Jean laughed too and then instantly winced, his head dropping to look at the dressing, a hand going to his side. "Shit, that hurts."

"Jean?" Marco sounded suddenly more serious now, making Jean look up again. When he did, he found that Marco was looking at the floor, fingers fidgeting nervously with his messy hair. Hadn't they been laughing a moment ago?

"Yeah, Marco?"

"I'm…really glad you're okay," his eyes cut back to Jean, his hand dropping to his side. He seemed frightened, uncertain. "I was…I thought you were…" Marco hefted a deep sigh and then a smile sprung to his lips. "Well, nevermind. Are you hungry?" He quickly stood up, not waiting for an answer and was stepping through the door before Jean could even react.

"Mar..." he started, wanting to stop him, wanting to ask him to finish what he was saying but Jean stopped himself. Not because Marco had left, or because he felt like it would be rude to press the guy but because, weirdly, Jean felt like he already knew exactly what Marco meant.


	12. Chapter 12

**(A/N - I had a bit of trouble writing this and getting the balance right so I hope you enjoy it! **_I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan bust Misty is mine!)_

**Chapter 12 - Marco**

Marco stood in his tiny kitchen, hands braced on the counter, head bowed. He was having a hard time trying to keep his body in check. His arms and shoulders shook uncontrollably, the hours of pent up tension and worry releasing all at once.

Jean was awake. He was laughing.

He was going to be okay.

The relief was almost dizzying. It didn't matter how many life threatening situations they'd been in before, or how many of their friends they'd seen killed in front of them, none of it could ever prepare Marco for seeing Jean so broken.

He had endured Jean's groans of pain, had watched him sleep fitfully through the night, heard him struggling to breathe and tried to ignore the dread building inside his own chest. How many times had he reached for his phone, had his fingers been poised to type those three numbers? Marco lost count. But every time he stopped himself.

Marco let out a long sigh and sunk to the floor, sitting with his back against a cupboard, head tilted back. He felt exhausted, all his determination and control beginning to crumble in on itself. And then he brought his hand in front of his face, looking at his fingers, the fingers that only a moment ago had been brushing against Jean's forehead.

He probably shouldn't have done that. He'd almost forgotten him and Jean were practically strangers to each other. But in that moment of mixed concern and relief, Marco had so desperately wanted to touch Jean, just to be close to him. Selfish reassurance he supposed but somehow he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

A loud clatter erupted from the bedroom, making Marco's heart jump. He scrambled to his feet, almost tripping in his haste and flew across the hall and into the bedroom. "Jean?"

Marco saw the offending object immediately. The glass from the bedside table lay in pieces on the floor, water pooling around the shards and soaking into the wooden boards. From there his eyes travelled up and found Jean. One of his hands was firmly planted on the bedside table, his legs wobbly beneath him, an arm protectively slung over his injured side.

"Sorry," he grimaced.

Marco smiled. He didn't want Jean worrying about something as trivial as a broken glass. "Don't worry. Did you need something?"

Jean began to look uncomfortable, a hand rising to rub at the back of his neck. "I just…I thought that since I'm awake now that maybe I should go back to my—"

"No," Marco interrupted sharply, stunning himself. He hadn't meant to say it like that. It had just come out without him thinking.

Jean stared at him, apparently stunned as well.

"Sorry," Marco blurted, trying to back track and say it in a more reasonable way. It was just that he didn't feel right about letting Jean wander about in the streets again. Not when he was so vulnerable. "You just…I don't think you should be moving around and you're not…" Marco trailed off, not sure where he was going or what he could say to make Jean change his mind.

Jean gave him a weak smile. "It's okay, Marco. You don't have to take care of me or worry about me."

The way he said it sent a sharp spike through Marco's chest, making his muscles pull taut with worry again. Or was it something else this time? There was such sadness and resignation in Jean's words, like he was too used to people not caring that now he just accepted that as the norm, and it made Marco feel…angry. It made his jaw clench together and his fists ball up, the frustration coiling inside him ready to burst. If only Jean knew.

And then Jean sighed, like he saw the shift in Marco and misread it. "Maybe I shouldn't have come here and put this on you. We barely know—"

"Stop it!" Marco shouted, flinging his hand out, like Jean's words were a physical blow he had to push away.

The smile slid off Jean's face but Marco was too far gone now.

"I don't want to hear that." His voice nearly broke but he kept it together. "I don't want to hear about how you feel like you're burdening me or whatever. It's my decision who I let in my flat and who I want to give a shit about and no one else's." Marco could feel his throat growing raw with the strain and anger but he didn't care. "I'm not stupid, Jean. I know someone did this to you and I know it's no one good. But right now I don't give a shit. I don't care about answers or what I'm getting involved in. All I give a shit about is that you get back in that bed and let me look after you because if you expect me to let you walk out that door when you can barely stand then you're kidding yourself." Marco felt like the corners of his vision were tinged with red. He hadn't meant to get that worked up but he just couldn't stop the surge of emotions.

"Marco…" Jean murmured.

He didn't let his eyes leave Jean's. "That okay with you?"

Jean nodded slowly.

"Good." Marco moved forward to help him over to the bed, touching Jean's arm when he was close enough and planning to duck under it, only to freeze when Jean suddenly turned into him, resting his forehead on Marco's shoulder.

Marco instantly panicked, thinking Jean had passed out. "Jean? Jean! Are you—"

"I'm fine," Jean mumbled against Marco's skin, making every hair stand up on the back of his neck. "Can I…is it okay if I just stay like this for a moment?"

Not knowing what to do, Marco could only reply, his arms hanging awkwardly in mid-air. "Uh…sure." Heat flamed Marco's face, his throat growing dry, his body trembling every time Jean's breath hit his skin. This was the closest they'd been in this world but at the same time he didn't want to do anything stupid.

"Marco?"

Swallowing, Marco tried to keep his composure. "Um…yeah, Jean?"

"I'm…I'm supposed to know you aren't I."

Marco's entire body froze, his arms collapsing back to his sides, fear and hope jostling for dominance in his mind. It wasn't a question. It was more like a fact. But was it something Jean knew or just something he felt like he did? Was he only saying it because that's what he thought Marco wanted to hear? He glanced down at the top of Jean's head and saw the tremble in his shoulders. How could Marco ever justify being selfish enough to tell Jean the truth when he was so fragile?

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Let's…just get you back into bed."

"Okay," Jean whispered, pulling away from him.

Eventually Jean fell asleep again, leaving Marco to retreat into the living room, the feel of Jean's head on his shoulder lingering.


	13. Chapter 13

**(A/N - Sorry it's been a while! I had the most awful/stressful week at work, so much so that I then ended up getting kind of sick. Not really a great frame of mind for writing so I hope this chapter isn't crappy! I'm away to Rome all of next week so there will be a wee gap again. Hope you enjoy! :)** - _I do not own any of the characters from Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan but Misty is mine! _

_Also if you're at all interested, I made a playlist of songs that I listen to for this fic. I'll try to put the link up in my profile but you can find the link on my Tumblr._

And thank you for all the lovely comments. They keep me wanting to post!)

**Chapter 13 - Jean**

Jean woke slowly, his eyes screwing up against the sunlight that dappled through the curtains and across his face. It took him a moment to remember where he was again but this time he was less panicked. This time all he could feel was warmth and comfort.

Eventually his heavy lidded eyes drifted open and he was able to take in his surroundings. He saw the half open wardrobe with someone else's clothes inside, the bedside table with an alarm clock that wasn't his and a pile of loose change that had never come from his pockets.

Everything was Marco's, even the bed he slept in.

For a split second Jean wondered where Marco had been sleeping and a familiar guilt rose in his chest but it didn't take root. He didn't let it. Something was different and he was able to push the gnawing doubt ridden thoughts aside.

An electric shock of pain buzzed through Jean's chest, making him hiss and clutch his side. He rode it out for a moment, his muscles tensed, waiting for another assault but it never came. The sting and ache was starting to become more bearable now. The grating sensation when he moved still afflicted his ribs but the burning all consuming rawness of his injures seemed to have dulled.

Jean didn't know whether he was happy or sad about that.

A thud and scrabbling from somewhere in the flat distracted Jean from lingering too long on that thought but before he could push himself up and investigate, the bedroom door burst open and Misty appeared. She seemed out of breath and her brown mop of a bob was slightly wilder than usual. Her blue duffel coat was squint, falling off her shoulder but she didn't seem phased at all.

"Guess whose day just got infinitely better!" she shouted, her eyes travelling round the room.

Jean felt himself instinctively sink back into the bed, as though the covers and pillows might swallow him up and save him from whatever fresh hell Misty was about to unleash.

Misty's gaze finally landed on Jean and she grinned. "That's right, Titan boy, it's you."

Marco soon appeared behind her, also gasping and looking hassled. When he saw Jean awake his expression became softer but apologetic. "Sorry, she's faster than she looks."

Misty ignored him and took a few steps forward, her heavy boots clunking on the wooden floorboards. There was a pause where Misty's face screwed up in scrutiny and Jean didn't know quite where to look, waiting for the inevitable questions about what had happened to him.

Instead Misty whistled and put a hand on her hip. "That is some serious bed hair you've got going on there."

Jean ducked his head, running his fingers quickly through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out. "Shut up!"

"Misty, don't tease Jean," Marco chided, leaning against the doorway.

"Where's the fun in that?"

When Jean looked up again, hair hopefully tamer, he saw Misty shrugging her coat off and onto the floor. She then bent down, using the bed as an anchor, and unlaced her boots, dropping them on top of the small pile she'd made in the middle of the room.

Jean watched unsure of whether he should be afraid as Misty abandoned her possessions and moved over to the bed, hopping on it, crawling across to Jean, and settling herself down in the space next to him.

The proximity unnerved Jean. Misty never did anything Jean expected and being this close to her kind of worried him.

"Well…" Misty finally spoke, directing her words at Marco. "Where's my cup of tea?"

Marco sighed, catching Jean's attention. Now he was able to get a better look at him, Jean saw just how tired Marco looked. Bags darkened the area under his eyes and his skin had a certain pallor to it. Jean hoped he wasn't getting sick. Being harassed by Misty probably wasn't helping. But he didn't seem annoyed by her, just amused, like they'd run through this routine many times before and he knew what to expect. He walked over and picked up Misty's boots and coat, a smile on his lips. "What did your last slave die of?"

Misty didn't miss a beat. "Decapitation."

Chuckling, Marco hefted her belongings over his arm. "Better get to it then." He noticed then that Jean was looking at him and gave Jean a properly genuine smile. It was like Jean could feel the warmth behind it, like Marco was sending him all the good will in the world. It was so different to the polite smiles Jean had received before. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and quickly looked away, hearing Marco eventually pad out of the bedroom in his socks.

Misty shifted beside him, reminding Jean of her presence. "So are you okay?" Her voice was different now, quiet.

Jean glanced at her, hopeful that his cheeks were no longer the colour of beetroot. Misty was staring straight ahead, the teasing smile gone from her lips. He felt compelled to answer her but didn't know how. Was he okay? Had he ever been okay? Jean shook himself, realising she probably didn't mean for him to have an existential crisis. She probably just meant the pain. "Uh…it hurts less now I suppose."

"Good." Misty took a deep breath, bordering on a sigh, but kept her gaze forward. It was weird seeing her be so serious. "We'll listen you know. Whenever you're ready to tell us, we'll be here." She turned to him, her expression softer. "Okay?"

Jean stared at her, not knowing why his chest was constricting but at the same time being sure it had nothing to do with his injuries. He nodded slowly, not sure he could trust his voice.

A grin sprung to Misty's lips. "Great! Because I've been wanting to test out my throwing knives!"

Throwing knives? This conversation was like getting whiplash. Jean couldn't decide whether his brain was being sluggish or if Misty was incapable of thinking in a straight line. "What?"

"Well I reckon I can almost throw straight now, that oughta make those jackasses think twice about touching you again, right?"

"Uh…" Jean just stared at her, sure his mouth was starting to gape open. Just who exactly was she?

Marco came back then, three cups of steaming tea balanced in his hands. He paused in the doorway, looking between the two. "Did I miss something?"

"Just the pleasure of my company," Misty smiled, leaning forward to take a cup from him.

Jean went to do the same, groaning when his side twinged with pain. _Damn it._ Being hurt was starting to become an annoyance more than anything else.

While Jean was busy mentally cursing his cracked ribs for not healing fast enough, Marco had come up to his side, holding a cup out. "Here you go."

Jean jumped but took the cup. His fingers brushed against Marco's as he passed the tea over and Jean accidentally jolted the cup away, nearly spilling the tea everywhere. "Sorry," he apologised.

"That's okay," Marco smiled but avoided Jean's eyes.

"So!" Misty shouted, catching their attention. Jean was grateful for the distraction. "I've been here at least fifteen minutes and _no one_ has asked how my second date went."

Marco sat on the end of the bed, cup in hand. "So how did your date go?"

Jean found it oddly reassuring that they'd slipped into such a normal conversation. They really didn't plan on pressing him for answers and that fact allowed Jean to relax a little.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Misty took a sip of tea and then said, "Well, if you must know, I'm thinking about breaking it off."

"Why's that?" Marco asked.

"He's totally pining after another girl. Keeps talking about how much he misses her and shit. Reckon it's some sort of long distance deal. Kind of a bummer, you know?"

Marco nodded, taking a gulp of tea and then leaning over the edge of the bed to set it on the floor. His t-shirt rode up as he moved, exposing skin. Jean stared, feeling his throat tighten and then looked away quickly.

Misty nudged his shoulder and his eyes met hers for a brief moment. She smirked at him knowingly, to his annoyance, but stopped as soon as Marco returned to look at them. "So what now?" he asked.

"Time for Operation: Find Misty a Muscly Man She Can Wrap Her Legs Around."

Groaning, Marco facepalmed. "I'll add that to the list of things I _never_ wanted to hear," he teased.

Misty struck out with her foot, kicking Marco gently in the chest and nearly toppling him off the bed. He clutched hold of the sheets, surprise in his features as he tried to resist gravity.

Jean felt amusement bubbling up in his chest and he began to laugh. It was uncontrollable and thrilling and in turn made Misty laugh too. Marco cursed them and continued to scrabble for purchase but Jean could see that he too was amused.

Eventually Misty helped heft him back into position and they fired a few light hearted insults at each other.

Jean's face ached from the laughter and he felt breathless but there was also a lingering sensation that Jean couldn't identify.

It was strange.

The boundaries that they'd had built, that Marco had used to keep him at a distance were somehow gone. Where before Marco had been tense, overly polite, and distant, now he radiated a warmth Jean couldn't quite explain.

Even Misty approached him differently, not in any way obvious. She was still as mouthy and erratic as usual but underlying that there was a tenderness, a sense of caring.

It almost felt like they'd accepted him, like maybe he could trust them.

And maybe…he didn't have to be alone.

"Jean? Helloooo?" Misty's voice sang out to him.

He jolted back to the conversation. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, how many constellations do you think we could make by joining up the freckles on Marco's face with a marker?"

"You're not drawing on my face, Misty," Marco interjected.

"Spoil sport."

Jean smiled at them and thought that maybe it was okay to let people in after all.


End file.
